So... we're still waiting for answers. But really, when aren't we waiting in life? Waiting on the webpage to load, waiting on my phone to charge, waiting on a call back, waiting for the car to warm up, waiting on the server to bring the food... waiting, waiting, waiting. You get the point.
Right now, I'm waiting on Tigger- the kitty- to realize that I'm not her mother and she can stop licking me... I don't have fur, I don't need to be groomed- well, sometimes I just don't have time to shower- but licking my hand won't fix that. :)
Trying to decide what to do for the holidays. It's always a hard time- wasn't always this way, but as I've become an adult, things have gotten more and more difficult for me. I miss the way things were when I was a kid. Christmas Eve at Mom-Mom and Pop's house, a birthday celebration for Baby Jesus, complete with a mini-parade... my cousins and I all carried in the nativity set- and I thought I was big stuff when I was promoted from camel or Wise Man--- to Baby Jesus... little did I know, it was because all my cousins were getting older and were over it. Glad they continued to play along for a few years- but nonetheless... we would have angel food cake and peppermint ice cream- sing Happy Birthday, open a shit-ton of presents and then go home and wait for Santa. In the morning, we'd have my grandparents over for breakfast after I'd ransacked the tree- (they would usually bring me another gift or two- but only cause I was their favorite--- I mean, the youngest- I was the youngest, so therefore I was spoiled-- I mean, loved. I was loved- and I got more presents than everyone-- shhh, don't tell) We'd all get cleaned up and the three of us would go out to my Grandma and Grandpa Castle's house- where we'd meet up with my cousins and aunt/uncle out there- and this is where I hit the mother load, cause my Grandma would always ask for specific gifts- and I'd always get them- the other stuff... was just by chance (still is- LOVE YOU, MOM- but I never did get that puppy OR baby sister that I asked for)
Then Mom and Dad and I would come home, crash, and I'd go hog-wild with all my new stuff...
Now- it's not the same.
Mom and Dad and I do our own thing- we go to my aunt's house Christmas Eve, where we sit while they have their big Christmas as a family- with their grandkids, my cousins, and Aunt and Uncle. Not hating them- just hate feeling like we're intruding on their family traditions After that, we all fight sleep to stay awake for Midnight Mass, where my dad and I proceed to sob through most all the Christmas music- and when we're not sobbing, we're singing our asses off... cause it's Christmas and that's what we do- see who can get through the most verses- without the book. He wins always (honestly, who remembers all 25 verses to O'Come All Ye Faithful- besides my father??)
We then sleep in (cause we're all adults) we get into our stockings while my mom is getting breakfast ready, go into the living room, I still reek havoc on the living room cause I'm spoiled- then we eat breakfast, and start to get dinner ready- invite Uncle Vic down, watch some football or "A Christmas Story," take a nap, and be done with it.
I hate being a 32-year-old adult, alone on the holidays, alone without a man, without kids- I want to see the joy on children's faces when they think of Santa- and I want to see the joy on my parents' faces when they spoil grandchildren with presents---
With all this going on with my dad, I have to wonder- will I ever get to see this or will I be the single old lady with her crazy, half-retarded cats for my whole life?
Dad doesn't even want to put up a tree this year. Neither do I... bah, humbug.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
stress
Stress is coming at me in waves- I'm looking at life right now like "shit- what else do I want to do- so I don't have any regrets" I've got an interview with a vet tech school this week- I've come up with ideas for childrens books that I can write with my mom. I'm taking orders some crafts I've made and most important I'm spending as much time with my family as I can. It sucks that when something starts to rear its ugly head- things get serious.
My colitis is in full effect- and the skin on my fingers is flaking off like 2 week-old nail polish. I'm loosing so much hair, I'm about to order a wig- not kidding- I picked one out: Laine by Rene of Paris | Wigs.com - The Wig Experts
The ex emailed me... why, I have no idea- he asked me to call him; "hope all is well" (all IS well, asshole, I haven't had to worry a minute about what you're doing and how it will screw my life up) it's been over a year since I've spoken to him... notice I did not say "it was over a year since we spoke" I haven't called him. I know its one of two things... a) he's high and bored; or b) he's high, lonely and bored... either way, the phone is not ringing- not from my line anyway- I did pass his number along to my dad as soon as I got it. :) Just in case the idiot forgets to make a payment on his loan... Like Daddy to be able to give him a "friendly" reminder, since last time he "forgot" to make payments... Daddy gave him a "friendly" reminder and the asshole changed his number- cause that's what you do when you're white trash and have collectors calling you- you change your number instead of paying your bills- idiot.
Having some internal struggles this year- Christmas- always a difficult time for me and my Dad... miss the family- the way things used to be- before people passed away or moved out of state... like clockwork- it happens every year. We go to midnight mass. Dad clears his throat, gets ready- and sings all Christmas songs (every verse) without the hymnal. He non-verbally challenges me EVERY year to do the same, and I'm sorry- it's been exactly 12 months since I've heard all 15 verses to "O Come All Ye Faithful" and I get a little fuzzy... good thing I can fake it :) But he wins, every year. At some point, I end up running to the bathroom after we sing "Silent Night" because I've run out of kleenex that I've stolen from my mother, because, naturally- I don't have pockets. Every year, I look like an idiot, weeping, next to my dad who is trying to hold it together. It's a moment I'll never forget- and will probably be that much harder when he's not sitting next to me. I know this, because as the thought came into my head, the lump formed in my throat and I'm fighting tears. It's always funny- my mom will lean forward and give us the "mom-look" which translates in to "knock it off or Santa isn't coming" (cause that's how we roll- we still believe- we take turns filling stockings and still have gifts come "from Santa"- don't judge our traditions)
My dad doesn't want to put up a tree this year. Not because he can't- because numerous people have volunteered to come put it up for them- but because he doesn't want to. My mom thinks we'll put up the village this year, so we can all sit around the Department 56 Christmas village set up on a card-table in their house, and gaze at it on Christmas morning... yeah, not going to happen. They're getting a tree up... I'm going to do it. I refuse to have that as a memory- if that was the case, we should have gone to Mexico for Christmas- so there is no memory in Indiana- at all. I'd be fine with that. I've got my bags in my living room- I can pack a bag back up, lets go.
My colitis is in full effect- and the skin on my fingers is flaking off like 2 week-old nail polish. I'm loosing so much hair, I'm about to order a wig- not kidding- I picked one out: Laine by Rene of Paris | Wigs.com - The Wig Experts
The ex emailed me... why, I have no idea- he asked me to call him; "hope all is well" (all IS well, asshole, I haven't had to worry a minute about what you're doing and how it will screw my life up) it's been over a year since I've spoken to him... notice I did not say "it was over a year since we spoke" I haven't called him. I know its one of two things... a) he's high and bored; or b) he's high, lonely and bored... either way, the phone is not ringing- not from my line anyway- I did pass his number along to my dad as soon as I got it. :) Just in case the idiot forgets to make a payment on his loan... Like Daddy to be able to give him a "friendly" reminder, since last time he "forgot" to make payments... Daddy gave him a "friendly" reminder and the asshole changed his number- cause that's what you do when you're white trash and have collectors calling you- you change your number instead of paying your bills- idiot.
Having some internal struggles this year- Christmas- always a difficult time for me and my Dad... miss the family- the way things used to be- before people passed away or moved out of state... like clockwork- it happens every year. We go to midnight mass. Dad clears his throat, gets ready- and sings all Christmas songs (every verse) without the hymnal. He non-verbally challenges me EVERY year to do the same, and I'm sorry- it's been exactly 12 months since I've heard all 15 verses to "O Come All Ye Faithful" and I get a little fuzzy... good thing I can fake it :) But he wins, every year. At some point, I end up running to the bathroom after we sing "Silent Night" because I've run out of kleenex that I've stolen from my mother, because, naturally- I don't have pockets. Every year, I look like an idiot, weeping, next to my dad who is trying to hold it together. It's a moment I'll never forget- and will probably be that much harder when he's not sitting next to me. I know this, because as the thought came into my head, the lump formed in my throat and I'm fighting tears. It's always funny- my mom will lean forward and give us the "mom-look" which translates in to "knock it off or Santa isn't coming" (cause that's how we roll- we still believe- we take turns filling stockings and still have gifts come "from Santa"- don't judge our traditions)
My dad doesn't want to put up a tree this year. Not because he can't- because numerous people have volunteered to come put it up for them- but because he doesn't want to. My mom thinks we'll put up the village this year, so we can all sit around the Department 56 Christmas village set up on a card-table in their house, and gaze at it on Christmas morning... yeah, not going to happen. They're getting a tree up... I'm going to do it. I refuse to have that as a memory- if that was the case, we should have gone to Mexico for Christmas- so there is no memory in Indiana- at all. I'd be fine with that. I've got my bags in my living room- I can pack a bag back up, lets go.
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